


The Grooming Process

by he11ebore, sydmicky



Series: ccverse [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternative Professions, Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, BDSM, Communication, Demisexuality, Explicit Consent, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pain, Romance, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, because this thing is an even bigger behemoth than Closet Case, tags will update as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/he11ebore/pseuds/he11ebore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydmicky/pseuds/sydmicky
Summary: Grooming is a social behavior among owls that indicates intimacy and trust.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before and beyond the events of [ Closet Case ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7473357?view_full_work=true) and occurs in the same universe, and kind of the same format, where each story is sort of its own but also goes along with a bigger arc.
> 
> To give you a sense of time, Bokuto and Akaashi start dating ~6-8 months before Tsukki comes out.
> 
> Thank you for your support, we hope you like it, and thanks to BecauseISaidSo for being our beta goddess.

Akaashi has lived in this town for almost six years. He’s probably passed this unassuming doorway hundreds of times, but now he’s staring through the window, mentally preparing himself for whatever might be on the other side. Kenma has recommended the place, a hole in the wall bar called  _ The Crow’s Nest _ , and while the name promised tacky pirate themed decor and bad music, from the outside, the establishment  _ looked _ harmless.

Heaving a small sigh, Akaashi knocks on the glass pane. The bar is dark, it looks like there might not be anyone there, but, after a moment, after Akaashi considers abandoning the idea of picking up extra cash by playing his violin in a bar, he sees an older man appear in the darkness, a frown on his face.

“Yeah, what?” the man asks as he opens the door, just enough to poke his head through. Akaashi levels an even look at him before raising his violin case slightly.

“My name is Akaashi Keiji. My friend, Kozume-san, said that I could find someone named Ukai here?” Akaashi asks. The man looks him over while Akaashi frowns; he never liked being examined closely by people.

“Yeah, I’m him,” the man barks before opening the door wider and stepping back and allowing Akaashi to pass by him. “Ukai Ikkei. So, you’re the musician, Kuroo’s friend’s friend?”

“If you mean Kozume-san, then yes.” Akaashi says, glancing around the bar. No pirate decorations. Akaashi shoots a small thanks to whatever deity might be watching and turns to regard Ukai again.

“Well, let’s get down to it. You play here three times a week, and you get ‘bout a hundred bucks a night, plus a share of the tips, and drinks on the house, sound good?” Ukai asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Akaashi looks around the bar again. They probably don’t get too much traffic; it seems like the kind of place that has a lot of dedicated regulars rather than a new crowd every night. Akaashi doesn’t  _ need _ the money, his other occupation does just fine, but playing at weddings is exhausting, whereas  _ The Crow’s Nest _ seems like a place where he can fade into the background and just enjoy playing.

“Sure, sounds fine,” Akaashi says with a shrug, “do you want me here on certain days?” 

“Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you’re consistent,” Ukai says with a shrug, “I’m not here every night, ‘cause my grandson hounds me if I am, but if you need anything, talk to Bokuto.”

“Bokuto?” Akaashi asks, curious. As long as he gets paid and isn't bothered too much, he doesn't really care who Bokuto is.

“He's my right hand, runs the bar for me when I'm not here,” Ukai explains. The clock ticks obnoxiously in the corner. Akaashi’s “hm” takes three seconds.

“Hey hey hey!” 

Akaashis attention is pulled to the employees only door behind the bar from which an obnoxious man has emerged. He’s wearing a pinstripe button-down with the sleeves rolled up in a particularly devastating way - it's so distracting that it takes a moment for Akaashi to notice his hair, which is, frankly, ridiculous. 

“Ah, speak of the devil!” Ukai booms. He slaps Bokuto on the back and pushes him in Akaashi’s direction. “I hired some help to improve the atmosphere in this place. Bokuto, meet Akaashi.”

“Nice to meetcha!” Bokuto, too loud, offers his hand to Akaashi immediately. 

Akaashi does his best not to frown as he shakes Bokuto’s hand. The other man’s hand is broad and warm, his grip is wonderfully firm. 

“Likewise, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, keeping his voice neutral rather than judgemental. It's more than likely that Bokuto will be a good resource, maybe even an ally, here, but Akaashi hopes he's not always so loud.

“So what ya gonna do? Sit at the bar and look pretty? Or?” Akaashi does frown this time. Maybe he doesn't want Bokuto as a resource. It's not as if Akaashi doesn't know he's attractive, but it's not something strangers tend to point out so blatantly.

Ukai smacks the back of Bokuto’s head. 

“He’s a violinist. Says he's got a friend who plays cello that might join him some nights.”

“Really?!” Bokuto beams, “th-that's so cool! Are you any good?”

“I would hope so, considering the years of practice and the fact that I'm going to be paid for playing,” Akaashi says, dry and uninterested.

“Play me something!” Bokuto shouts, slamming his hands on the bar in his enthusiasm. Akaashi bristles, shoulders tight. Okay. He does not like this man.

“No,” Akaashi says, grip tight on the handle of his violin case, “I'll play when there are actual customers here, which is what I'm being  _ paid _ for.” He turns to Ukai, deciding that dealing with Bokuto isn't worth his time right now, and definitely not worth the headache.

“I can be here Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sunday nights. If I have a wedding or a conflict, I'll let you know a day in advance,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

“That's fine,” Ukai says, a wry grin on his face. Akaashi feels like the old man is seeing through him.

“You should probably give Bokuto your number, since he's here more often than me.” Akaashi glances over at the man in question.

“If I must.”

“You don't have to,” Bokuto responds, listless and deflated. “It's fine. See you around.” He sulks away into the back room.

_ That...was fast. _ Akaashi thinks, blinking at the door as it swings shut behind Bokuto. 

“He can be a lot when he's excited, but he's great with the customers, has a good head on his shoulders,” Ukai says. It's obvious he’s fond of Bokuto, and Akaashi feels a familiar pang of guilt, the one that comes whenever he meets someone new and isn't personable or friendly enough.

“I'm sure,” Akaashi says simply; he doesn't have time to wade through his feelings of inadequacy right now. “You open soon, correct?” 

“Yup, in about an hour. Which means I need to head out. Set up where ever,” Ukai says. The old man grabs his keys and nods at Akaashi before going through the same door as Bokuto. Akaashi can hear him talk to Bokuto, but he can't understand what he's saying. There's one more, muffled, “Have a good night, kid!” And another door opens and shuts.

About five minutes go by where Akaashi is sitting at the bar alone before Bokuto re-emerges, still deflated. 

“I uh, I didn't know you were staying to play, y’know, tonight,” he mutters, visibly depressed and embarrassed, “I gotta get ready to open so… d’you want a drink or anything?”

“It is Thursday,” Akaashi points out, trying to keep his tone neutral. Bokuto is trying to make himself busy, but is mostly moving different glasses around. He's obviously intent on talking to Akaashi. “I should probably get the rest of my stuff, I just didn't want to get locked out.”

“Oh, okay. So uh, you, you look like you drink red wine. We got a new Malbec, and Kuroo says that my palate isn't refined enough, so do you wanna try it?”

Akaashi’s stomach twists, because he's determined not to like this man, but he looks so terribly endearing and obvious as he asks while peeking through his lashes. Akaashi also happens to love a good Malbec.

“I suppose,” Akaashi says carefully. There have been a few too many times when he's tried to be polite and the other person has tried to kick down the walls he puts around himself. Bokuto seems like he would be that kind of person. He slips off the bar stool but leaves his violin case. “My car is just around the corner, I'll be right back.”

“Oh, sure, let me unlock the door for you-” Bokuto starts to make his way around the bar, but Akaashi doesn't want to see those arms up close when they're attached to such a loud personality.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” Akaashi says quickly, sliding off the bar stool and trotting over to the entrance. He lets himself out and is walking away before the door fully shuts. He pulls out his phone and sends a text to Kenma.

**Akaashi:** Would you like to have tea tomorrow? I have a feeling I'll need some quiet company.

He tucks his phone back in his pocket and grabs his keys, opening the trunk to his car. He has one bag that holds his music stand and some sheet music. He chose some violin covers of contemporary songs, songs that are upbeat and different from his usual selection. He likes the change of pace.

“Close and lock and...back to that place,” Akaashi sighs, hoisting his bag and making his way back to the bar. There's someone else behind the bar when he reaches the door and his stomach sinks. Hopefully they’ll be a little less...exuberant. He knocks once more and Bokuto jumps; his back had been to the door and the other man - who looks like he could be Kenma’s friend Kuroo based on the wild hair that Kenma had described as ‘a bird’s nest that’s been attacked by a damn cat’ - hadn't been warned of Akaashi’s approach.

“Sorry, sorry, here - can I help you with that?” Bokuto opens the door and reached for Akaashi’s bag.

“No, it's not heavy,” Akaashi snaps before Bokuto can touch him. He's not sure why Bokuto has frazzled him so much, but he already feels like his nerves are fried. Bokuto, who looked energetic while talking to Kuroo, shuts down again, stepping aside to let Akaashi pass. The brunette mumbles his thanks and grabs his violin case.

“Kuroo?” Akaashi asks. The taller man behind the bar smirks, one corner of his mouth tipping up, crooked and attractive.

“Yeah,” he says easily. He seems relaxed, easy going, smooth compared to Bokuto’s overflowing energy, “nice to meet you, Akaashi. Kenma mentioned you might come by tonight.”

“Yes, well, I was finally free tonight,” Akaashi says. Bokuto joins Kuroo behind the bar and seems to gather himself for a second.

“So, so I was thinking, since it's your first night - or performance, I guess, we could, like, announce you, like, make this kinda official!” Bokuto’s expression is full of cautious excitement. He's obviously trying to reign himself in, which Akaashi appreciates, but his stomach twists at Bokuto's suggestion.

“I would prefer you didn't,” he says with a grimace.  _ Gentle, try to be gentle. _ “I prefer not to make a spectacle.” Bokuto's shoulders fall and he nods slowly.

“Yeah, no, it probably would have been really dumb,” he says with a forced, short, laugh. Akaashi doesn’t know what to tell him, so instead he shrugs and goes to set his stuff up in the corner he decided on earlier. He pulls out his music stand and pulls a chair and one of the smaller tables over. 

He knows he agreed to play at a bar, but patrons haven't even arrived yet and the place is noisy and rowdy. He does his level best to ignore Kuroo and Bokuto’s raucous antics, but can't help but tune in. 

Every third word from their mouths is “dude” or “bro” or “man.” Kuroo has a  _ ridiculous  _ laugh and isn't nearly how he’d imagined based on what he knows from Kenma. And how the hell is Kenma in such a deep relationship with  _ that _ guy? Akaashi can't imagine that big oaf being quiet for five seconds, let alone being soft and intimate with Kenma.

Akaashi glances to the bar and… well, if Bokuto and Kuroo aren't gay, they're definitely at least gay together because that sort of intimacy isn't something Akaashi has ever seen on a straight man. Bokuto is showing Kuroo something in the cash register screen and Kuroo has his arm around Bokuto’s waist, cheek pressed to Bokuto’s shoulder. 

Kuroo is well-dressed the same way Bokuto is and if Akaashi is honest with himself, they do look  _ really _ good together. 

_ I wonder who tops?  _

Akaashi shakes his head lightly, takes a steadying breath, and shakes out his hands before practicing scales to warm up. 

\-----

Despite his rocky start with the bartenders, Akaashi thinks he might be able to stand the atmosphere when the bar is actually open. The patrons are low key, and some came to tip him directly, which is always nice. Bokuto and Kuroo seemed to calm down as well, or at least focus their energies into charming customers rather than bro-ing it up as much as they were before.

He also received a text from Kenma an hour ago that he could visit tomorrow, which will be a lovely way to recharge.

Akaashi finishes collecting his music, placing the folder back into his bag carefully, before grabbing his violin case and bag. 

Playing violin used to be a chore, something imposed by his parents to make him look more...accomplished? He’s not sure what their motivations were, and he chooses not to think about it too often, but while playing weddings allows him some creative freedom, most couples want the same kinds of songs, and Akaashi doesn’t get to stretch himself very often. Tonight felt good, and if he were a more optimistic person, he would say it felt great, but he’s more comfortable sticking with ‘good’.

Either way, he’s relaxed as he approaches the bar.

Kuroo excuses himself from some very chatty lesbians and approaches Akaashi. 

“And what can I get for the talent this evening?” he purrs, leaning on the bar and sporting a Cheshire-cat smirk. Akaashi sets his violin case and bag down before sitting at the bar. 

“Just my payment for the evening. Is that something you can help me with, or…?” Akaashi lets himself trail off and looks from Kuroo, down the bar, to Bokuto. The other bartender, excited and gesturing wildly, seems to be telling some kind of story to a short redhead.

Kuroo reaches under the bar and brings forth a slender envelope with Akaashi’s name on it. 

“Here you go,” he offers. Akaashi takes it from him with a small “thank you” and slides it in his bag. 

“I'll see you soon, I’m sure,” he says to Kuroo with a slight bow. 

“It'll be my pleasure,” Kuroo responds, smooth and easy and quite unlike the way he acts with Bokuto. 

Akaashi makes it to the doorway before hearing his name, butchered, loud, from the bar. 

“Hey hey! Aaakashiiii!”

The brunette has to take an extra second to school his face into something that’s not outright disgust before he can turn towards the bar. He raises his eyebrows, and he really doesn’t want to walk back over there, but he also  _ refuses _ to draw even more attention to himself than Bokuto already has. He walks over quickly, crossing his arms.

“What, Bokuto-san?” he asks, his tone barely civil. 

“I just, you didn't say goodbye!” Bokuto chirps, unfazed by Akaashi’s expression. “When can we expect you back? You- you play real pretty, I liked it!”

“Like I told Ukai-san, I will be here Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday nights. Although if you yell at me across the bar again, I will seriously reconsider that. I’m glad you liked the music. Goodnight, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi doesn’t wait for Bokuto to respond. He turns on his heel and walks out of the bar, teeth clenched and shoulders tight.

\-----

Tsukishima is kind of like an artichoke. An acquired taste, enjoyed by only a few, and even then, covered in layers of inedible leaves before you manage to reach the inner heart, the part that makes eating the artichoke worthwhile. Akaashi appreciates this, because he and Tsukki are similar in so many ways. He thinks they both recognize that the other has various walls built up, and they each respect the other’s walls. Akaashi’s comfortable calling Tsukki a friend, more casual than close, but a friend all the same.

In this moment, Akaashi hates him.

“I just thought about it, and I don't think playing in a bar is worthwhile, Akaashi-san,” Tsukki is saying. They're sitting in a reception hall, waiting for more people to filter in before they start playing. Akaashi’s fingers twitch against his bow and fingerboard.

“It's a relaxing crowd,” Akaashi very narrowly doesn't lie, “and there's room to play around and experiment with new music…”

“I just don't think it's for me, Akaashi-san. And it's not like the money is  _ that _ good. We make more here,” Tsukki gestures to the room with a shrug.

“I mean really, is it worth playing a few hours in a bar? Just to play some different music?”

“Is it just the money that’s holding you back?” Akaashi asks politely. He'd love to shake Tsukki by the shoulders and beg him to come, so that he doesn't feel so alone and watched and so that he has someone he feels like he can interact with, but he simply grips the neck of his violin while waiting for Tsukki’s answer.

“I guess, but you also really seem to want me there, which makes me wonder what's so bad about the place,” Tsukki says with a raised brow. Akaashi keeps his face blank.

“I know that we make better money together, and I know that I enjoy playing with you. This...is new for me, and I think I would be more comfortable with you there, Tsukishima-san.” Tsukki’s eyes narrow at first, but then his face smooths. Akaashi holds his breath while the blonde sighs and shrugs.

“I don't know…” He says slowly, and panic grips Akaashi’s chest.

“I'll give you half of my hundred,” he blurts and Tsukki stares at him.  _ Shit, that was the wrong move. _

“You’ll give me half of your pay, before tips?” Tsukki says slowly, eyes narrow again.

“Yes,” Akaashi says, voice firm. He holds Tsukki's gaze until the other man looks away, shrugging again.

“Fine, I’ll go on Sunday,” Tsukki says. Before Akaashi can say anything else, guests start to file in and Tsukki starts to work some brief scales. The violinist sighs, relieved, before joining Tsukki in warming up.

\-----

Akaashi loves spending time with Kenma. There’s no talking required, and there are no expectations when they hang out. They’re set up for a cozy,  _ quiet _ day. Kenma has surrounded himself with blankets and plush pillows at a kotatsu in his living room. Akaashi is to his right at the table, leaning against it heavily while also bundled in blankets and nursing his tea slowly, opting to use the warm cup to ease the chill in his hands.

“So, how was your week? Did you talk to Ukai about playing the bar?” Kenma asks, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I did,” Akaashi says with a small nod, “I’m going to be playing there three nights a week. Tsukishima-san hasn’t decided if he’ll join me, he said that he’ll come on Sunday, but even so, it’ll be a change of scene.” Akaashi’s lips twist into a frown.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand the bartender, though,” Akaashi says, his voice dangerously close to grumbling. Bokuto is...kind of like a puppy, energetic, overly attentive, and always just  _ there _ . 

Akaashi always prefered cats to dogs. 

Kenma frowns. “You don’t mean Kuro, do you?” Akaashi shakes his head quickly.

“No, no, I mean the other one. Bokuto? Kuroo was there, and, well, he was loud and nothing like what you described, but Bokuto- Kenma he  _ demanded _ I play something for him. And if that wasn’t enough, he  _ screamed my name _ from across the room because I didn’t say goodbye before I left,” the brunette says, expression twisted in disgust.

“Oh, yeah. I've only met him a couple times, and I don't get on well with him either,” Kenma recalls, “but Kuro loves him a whole lot, and insists that he's great, says Koutarou needs to learn how to interact with me. Guessing it'll be the same for you, but easier.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, Kenma, but I'm not so sure. He is just...utterly obtuse. And loud, and unpredictable, and all of that is infuriating.”

Kenma has to pause and think about what to say for a moment. His eyes dart from Akaashi to the floor to his tea as he thinks. 

“You can do what you want, Keiji, but,” he says carefully, “maybe try to be forgiving to him. He can't help his nature any more than we can.” Akaashi sighs, that same pang of guilt filling his chest; he needs to be more patient with people. He should be able to trust people. He shouldn't be on high alert around strangers.

“You're right Kenma,” he says gently, taking a long sip of his tea, “it's wrong of me to judge when I don't actually know him.”

Kenma is silent, sips his tea, checks his phone. He scoots a tiny bit closer to Akaashi and then flops over on the pile of pillows. 

“Maybe having Tsukishima will make next time more bearable,” Akaashi mumbles, doing the math in his head. If nothing else, Tsukishima would be an excellent buffer. “Two calm people versus two rowdy people might even the scales?” Akaashi can’t help the hope in his voice.

“I guess we’ll see,” Kenma says with a shrug.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does that even make any fuckin’ sense?” Bokuto laughs at himself and shakes his head, “it’s so stupid, Tetsu, but I want to solve that puzzle.”
> 
> “Pretty sure that's called attraction, man. You're not subtle about it - so it's not sexual, whatever. But you still have to relax and appreciate yourself. I won’t let anyone be mean to my best bro and that counts you, best bro.”

“Bro, dude, you’re seriously bumming me out. What can I do to make you happy?”

“Make it so that Akaashi doesn’t hate me?”

Bokuto lays sprawled and lifeless on Kuroo’s couch, in the same spot and position he took when he entered the apartment nearly a half hour ago. They were supposed to go to the gym, so they’re dressed as such - Kuroo in a tank top and basketball shorts, Bokuto in a cut off tee with comically large arm holes and running shorts that reveal his thick, built thighs.

Kuroo stands on the other side of the kitchen island which overlooks the living room. He cracks open a sports drink (to match the unopened one on the coffee table for Bokuto) and sighs heavily.

“Hydrate yourself, in more ways than one, seriously bro,”

“Bro!” Bokuto whines, “He’s so pretty, and I wanna kiss him, and I’m so likeable - you tell me all the time - why doesn’t he like me? What did I do? All I want is to keep looking at him I wonder what he looks like when he smiles and what his laugh sounds like - he drinks Malbec, he’s such a classy guy - I wonder if he’s gay, do you think he’s gay? It doesn’t matter because he! Hates! Me! And wouldn’t go out with me in a million zillion trillion years I just wanna be his friend and also his date and also give him anything he wants, he’s so pretty but he HATES ME!”

Bokuto sighs, big and dramatic and childish, and curls up on himself with a long, similarly childish whine into a throw pillow. Kuroo goes to the couch, sets his drink next to Bokuto’s, and taps Bokuto’s leg to get it out of the way. He lifts them, and Kuroo takes a seat, and Bokuto plops his legs onto Kuroo’s lap.

“Well, in order,” Kuroo sighs, petting Bokuto’s thigh. “He is very pretty, you should kiss him, you _are_ likeable and adorable, he is very classy and undoubtedly queer, and he probably just needs to get used to how great you are.”

“Why do you always have to have the answers,” Bokuto whines into the pillow, “can’t ya have some sympathy for a bro?”

“You’re having enough sympathy for both of us,” Kuroo coos. He slumps to the side and lays on Bokuto. He kisses Bokuto’s bicep before continuing, “Fine, no more advice. How do I make you feel good?”

“I dunno! I would tell you if I knew, but all I can think about is how he looked so mad at me when I tried to say goodbye! And - and I didn’t mean to yell at him across the bar, but, bro he was _leaving_ !” Bokuto covers his face with his hands and groans. “I just, can we just, I just want to mope and like, think about how pretty he is and how out of my league he _definitely_ is,” Bokuto sighs and wraps an arm around Kuroo. “And uh...maybe we could make out a little?”

Kuroo kisses Bokuto’s arm again, then presses a palm firm to his thigh and slides along his thick quad before squeezing.

“Bro, you’re so in his league, and I’ll prove it. Do you know how sexy you are? All the time?”

Bokuto can’t stop the bashful smile that spreads across his face, his cheeks flaring red.

“Sh-shut up bro,” he gasps. He pulls Kuroo up so that they’re aligned better and presses a soft kiss to the other man’s lips.

Kissing Kuroo is a lot of things. It’s fun, it’s comfortable, and there’s this underlying trust that soothes something in Bokuto like nothing else can. He falls into a familiar rhythm with Kuroo; he knows he won’t disappoint his best friend, and he knows that they’ll both be satisfied and happy.

“You’re just like, crazy biased,” Bokuto says against Kuroo’s lips.

“How could I not be?” Kuroo responds, dipping down to kiss Bokuto’s neck. He noses gently and presses kisses of adoration all along Bokuto’s throat. “You’re so wonderful.”

Bokuto doesn’t try to hold back his whine. He knows he has a stupid looking smile on his face, but he can’t really bring himself to care, because Kuroo will never not like him.

“Seriously, dude, you gotta cut that out,” Bokuto says, even though he doesn’t ever want Kuroo to stop. When Kuroo calls him wonderful, a small part of him believes it, and he knows it’s selfish to like that as much as he does, but right now he doesn’t really care if he’s selfish. Before Kuroo can say something Bokuto pulls him in for a long and lazy kiss.

Kuroo gasps, soft, his retort gone because this is his favorite. He loves making his best bro feel beautiful and wanted, he loves how easy and natural this is to them. As their tongues slide together Kuroo whines a little and slides his hands through those big silly arm holes to slide along Bokuto’s broad, solid back.

Bokuto wriggles back, pressing his back into Kuroo’s touch. He's been so tense; trying to be something he's not is exhausting.

“I tried to be calm…” Bokuto whines, and it's only partly because Kuroo's fingers are digging into his back in just the right way, “I’m just, not good at that at all, bro.”

“Don't worry about that right now, man,” Kuroo soothes, pressing his fingers in where he can feel the tension and making Bokuto moan, deep and unabashed. Kuroo smirks, “there ya go…”

“That’s cheating,” Bokuto breathes. He manages to lose himself in Kuroo for a few moments, letting his breath catch and his eyes flutter closed. Akaashi’s scowl is there to greet him.

“This...I don’t think this is working,” Bokuto sighs.  

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Not...really? I just, it’s stupid, I’m just...I’m not feeling it. I’m sorry, man, I’m being so dumb about this,” Bokuto says mournfully. So much for not disappointing his best friend.

“Never apologize for not feeling it, bro,” Kuroo slides his hands out from under Bo’s shirt and places them on his cheeks. “I told you I wanna do what makes you feel good, and you're not dumb.”

Kuroo kisses Bokuto’s cheek and lessens the amount their personal space overlaps.

“Not that it matters…” Kuroo begins, then takes a swig of his sports drink, “... But do you wanna, yknow. Bang Akaashi?”

Bokuto sighs and sits up. He stares at the coffee table before finally grabbing his drink and taking a long drink.

“No...I don’t know him, so, I’m not like, attracted to him like _that_ , but,” he looks towards the ceiling and tries not to think too hard about the harsh look on the violinist’s face. It’s been a long time since he’s been shut down so quickly by someone. “I dunno...people usually like me, even if I’m crazy and hard to deal with. It just feels, like, like really shitty that he hates me.”

“Hey now. I'm sure he doesn't hate you,” Kuroo coos, petting Bokuto’s shoulder, “remember when you first met Kenma? You were _convinced_ and he never hated you,” Bokuto rolls his eyes.

“Kuroo, he might not hate me, but I am not one of Kenma’s favorite people,” Bokuto says. He leans into the taller man and sighs.

“I don’t get why I want him to like me so bad,” Bokuto admits. Akaashi is fucking hot, there’s no denying, and maybe Bokuto would be willing to have a fling with him, but, “There’s just something about him. Like, you know when you meet someone, and you barely know them, but they’re like a puzzle, and you want to solve them, not _fix_ them, but figure out who they are, even though you don’t know them and they obviously want nothing to do with you…

“Does that even make any fuckin’ sense?” Bokuto laughs at himself and shakes his head, “it’s so stupid, Tetsu, but I want to solve that puzzle.”

“Pretty sure that's called _attraction,_ man. You're not subtle about it - so it's not sexual, whatever. But you still have to relax and appreciate yourself. I won’t let anyone be mean to my best bro and that counts you, best bro.”

“Aw, shucks,” Bokuto coos, shoving Kuroo playfully. “Seriously, though, I need to make a better impression on Sunday. Will you help me, like, chill?”

“No, because I don't think you should be someone you're not for some guy,” Kuroo replies sternly. Then he softens, “but I'll help you figure out how to let him know you want him.”

“Thanks bro,” Bokuto says, voice soft. It’s scary sometimes, just how much Kuroo loves him, and how much he loves Kuroo back. His heart tightens and he shifts so that he can lean against Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Can I use you as a pillow? And can we find a stupid movie to watch?” he asks, voice distorted by the way his cheek is smooshed against Kuroo’s firm skin.

“We can watch the stripper movie,” Kuroo chuckles, petting Bokuto’s hair, “perfect blend of dudes being rowdy, hot, and appealing. You could take notes.”

“Shut up, bro,” Bokuto laughs. He lets Kuroo grab his computer and then settles on top of his best friend, humming happily when Kuroo starts to pet his back.

Sunday will be better. He’ll make Akaashi not hate him.

\-----

Sunday isn't better so far.

Bokuto is moping behind the bar, preparing to open, making sure they have all the garnish they’ll need, while Akaashi and his friend, a tall grumpy looking blonde, Tsuki-something, warm up. Even their tuning and scales sound pretty.

Bokuto had been calm when he opened the door for them. He didn't try to help them with their stuff, which felt so rude, and he said a simple hello. He feels too stiff and his mind is running with all of the different questions he wants to ask, the questions that he tends to ask everyone.

The bartender sighs, glancing behind him. Akaashi is - wait, Akaashi is watching him! Bokuto stiffens a little, and he wants to smile, wave, something, something friendly, but he doesn't want to scare Akaashi away with all of his everything. Instead, he offers a weak smile, it's more of a grimace, to the violinist before turning back to his stuff.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow and turns to his friend. Damn it! Bokuto drags his broad hands down his face, but there's lime juice on them, so he hisses in pain and flees to the back room.

When he emerges, Akaashi is alone at the bar.

“Oh!” Bokuto gasps, surprised, “I mean, uh, did you need something?” Bokuto asks, forcing his voice to be calm, talking quietly, but not too quietly. He's not a weirdo that whispers everything.

“Am I able to ask for drinks?” Akaashi asks, “red wine for myself and a whiskey cola for Tsukishima?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Of course, just let me know!” Bokuto says.

“Um,” Akaashi says slowly, “... May I have a wine for myself and a whiskey cola for Tsukishima please?”

Bokuto's ears burn and he doesn’t say anything. He turns and grabs a Malbec, pouring a glass. He turns back around and places the glass on a napkin in front of Akaashi and- shit what was he going to say?!

_Say something, say something, anything! You're a fucking bartender, Kou, this is literally what the old man pays you for!_

“How was of whiskey?” The words come tumbling out before he can put them in the proper order and Bokuto wants to hide behind the bar forever.

Akaashi raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“I, uh...I'm sorry you just- you're intimidating and I meant to ask ‘how was your day?’ But I also need to know if your glasses friend has a preference on whiskey,” Bokuto explains, rubbing the back of his neck. The skin there is hot. “It all just came out jumbled and stupid,” Bokuto’s mutters.

A blush appears high on Akaashi’s cheeks. Bokuto assumes it's because of how embarrassing this entire situation is.

“I -” Akaashi starts, “he - I'll just, have him come over. To get his drink.”

He diverts his eyes to the bar and wrings his hands, his knuckles popping softly.

“I’m--” he begins, but is interrupted by Tsukishima approaching the bar.

“I hope my order wasn't too troublesome, Akaashi-san,” Tsukishima says with a small smirk. He's also intimidating, but Bokuto can deal with grumpy personalities when he's not attracted to the person they belong to.

“Nah, nah it's my fault,” he says quickly, “I didn't know if you had a whiskey preference, that's all.” Tsukishima looks down his nose at Bokuto, and the bartender tries not to take it personally; Tsukishima probably has to look down his nose at everyone, considering he’s such a bean pole.

“Ah, I don't really care. Since it’s free, something expensive,” Tsukishima says, apathetic.

“Cool, comin’ right up,” Bokuto says brightly. He turns and grabs a glass, fills it with ice, then chooses a top shelf whiskey, pouring it efficiently before getting the soda gun and filling the cup with cola. He passes the glass to Tsukishima who takes it with a quiet thanks. The blonde nods to them both and walks away.

Bokuto glances at Akaashi, who's still standing at the bar. _Do you think you would ever be interested in not hating me?_ Bokuto thinks.

“Did you need anything else, Akaashi?”

Akaashi takes his wine and fiddles with the napkin on the counter. “My day was okay. Busy. How was yours?” his eyes tilt up to meet Bokuto’s, and, holy shit how does someone who looks so tired look so pretty?

“Fine, good, actually. Went to the gym, cooked a little,” Bokuto says. _Thought about how to make you like me._ “My days don't _really start_ until I get here.” He gestures to the bar.

“Well. I hope you have… a good day then.” Akaashi smiles, just slightly, just the faintest upturn of the corners of his mouth, and Bokuto is sure it's all over for him. Rest in peace, cause of death, Akaashi.

Bokuto may or may not beam at Akaashi. That smile, it could hardly even be called a smile, but it makes Bokuto feel fluttery.

“Thanks! You too, man - Akaashi!”

The brunette nods a little and takes his wine, turns to walk away and then-

“Uh, Akaashi!” Bokuto says, his voice urgent to compensate for volume. The violinist turns, and he's frowning, _fuck_! “Sorry, sorry, I didn't want to yell at you across the bar again.”

Akaashi lets out a deep breath, “What is it, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto's cheeks feel hot as he says “I'm just looking forward to hearing you play tonight!”

There's that faint, high blush on Akaashi’s cheeks, in stark contrast to his stoic facial expression. But that's not fair! Bokuto didn't even do anything wrong! He feels himself succumbing to the despair but is interrupted by Akaashi speaking.

“Thank you. I- I hope you enjoy it.”

_Oh._

_\-----_

The rest of the night is...pretty good. Bokuto manages to stay pretty calm throughout it. He talks to the regulars, jokes with Kuroo, and sneaks glances at Akaashi.

The violinist just looks...there’s something different about him when he’s playing his violin. His shoulders seem looser, and his face relaxes from a frown to something softer, warmer.

“It’s really not fair how hot he is,” Bokuto mutters to Kuroo while he mixes a cocktail for Hinata.

“I don't know what to tell you bro,” Kuroo responds, low, hardly distracted by the drink he’s making, “well, I do, but it doesn't apply to you. I guess tailored to fit you, the advice is _ask him to make out with you.”_

“He’s too classy to just be like ‘Hey! Let’s make out!’, Kuroo,” Bokuto hisses. He pours Hinata’s drink and puts it in front of him. Hinata chirps his thanks and goes back to his heated conversation with Lev. Bokuto turns back to his best friend and pokes his side.

“And don’t pretend you haven’t been making eyes towards his friend all night.”

“Making eyes?!” Kuroo hisses in mock offense, “I have not been _making eyes_. Admiring, surveying, sure, but c’mon bro I think you’d know better than-”

“A-hem.”

Kuroo turns to see an impatient scowl across Tsukishima’s features. He straightens out of his huddle with Bokuto and smirks at him.

“Can I help you, Tsukki?” Bokuto wonders briefly when Kuroo got permission to use a nickname but waves the thought away to fully regard _Tsukki_. The blonde gives them an unimpressed look.

“Do you think you could be any less obvious?” Tsukki drawls. Bokuto blinks at him, but before he can ask what Tsukki means, he feels Kuroo slip his hands around his waist and rest his chin on Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto immediately relaxes in Kuroo’s arms, and _oh_ , that’s what Tsukki meant.

“Hm? About what?” Kuroo asks innocently. Tsukki’s scowl gets deeper.

“Being so _into_ each other.”

Kuroo unwinds himself from Bokuto and leans over the counter, right into Tsukki’s personal space.

“Why, would you like to be in one of us instead?” he purrs. The blonde bristles, shoulders stiff and cheeks red.

“I’d like to be paid for playing tonight,” Tsukki hisses. Bokuto raises an eyebrow. Tsukki is going to be fun to mess with. The silver haired man smirks and lays himself on top of Kuroo, propping himself up so that he can see over Kuroo’s fucking tall person shoulder.

“Seems like I get to keep you all to myself, bro,” Bokuto says, his voice low and gravelly. A woman sitting down the bar makes a small sound and Bokuto glances over in time to see her look away. He and Kuroo always get the best tips when they’re affectionate with each other. Tsukki rolls his eyes.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, stern. Bokuto looks to him to see his cheeks pink and pupils dilated. Shit. Somehow his tone of voice feels different and Bokuto _feels_ something in his core because of it. It’s kind of scary, but kind of good too, and Bokuto wants to know more, but Akaashi is starting to look impatient. When he continues, Akaashi is much more polite. “May we please have our payment?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Bokuto says. He moves away from Kuroo and goes to the register, reaching under the bartop to grab his and Tsukki’s envelopes. He hands them to their respective owners and Tsukki grumbles a less than polite thank you before turning on his heel.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto blurts before Akaashi can follow the cellist, “Would you mind staying after? For a couple minutes?”

Akaashi looks a little surprised, but nods in assent. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no, nothing bad. I just..wanted to talk to you, privately, maybe. If you don’t mind,” Bokuto rocks on his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. He bites his lips and offers Akaashi a weak smile.

“...Okay,” Akaashi says, “what about?” Bokuto feels his cheeks get hotter.

“Uh, just… I’d really prefer to just tell you later. It won't take long! I promise!” God what if Akaashi thinks Bokuto is a fucking weirdo? What if he's worried Bokuto will try to like, kill him?! _Shit shit, don't freak out, look cool, look fuckin’ calm._

 _“_ So… am I waiting now?” Bokuto is about to answer him when a customer comes over to close her tab. He shoots Akaashi what he hopes is an apologetic look and goes to take care of the woman’s tab. By the time he's done, Akaashi has walked back over to Tsukki and they're packing up. He doesn't have time to worry about it as another customer flags him down.

\-----

The last bit of the night is always Bokuto’s least favorite. There's so much to do in a short amount of time, and everyone wants their tabs closed at the same time and it's all just very confusing. Bokuto sighs as he waves to the last guest.

Akaashi didn't stay.

Bokuto sighs again and wipes down the bar.  Kuroo pulls the trash bag out of the bin with a groan. “Be right back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bokuto says. He swings his rag over his shoulder and takes a second to just wallow. Akaashi didn't wait, he hates Bokuto, and he probably thinks he's some kind of murderer psychopath.

“Stupid, man, just fuckin stupid,” Bokuto groans, slumping onto the bar and locking his knees so he won't fall.

“Uh, bro?”

Bokuto looks up to Kuroo and sees Akaashi standing next to him. He shoots up, whipping the cloth off his shoulder and throwing it somewhere behind him.

“Shit, hi, Akaashi,” Bokuto grimaces, “I- you left.”

“I came back. You wanted to speak with me, right?” Akaashi explains. Then he frowns slightly, “unless you changed your mind?”

“No, no I didn't!” Bokuto says. He’s torn between staying behind the bar or walking around and sitting or something. He tried to imagine that and decides he's going to stay put.

“Kuroo, bro, can you, uh, check the office? For the thing?” Bokuto asks. He feels so awkward and nervous and Akaashi is looking between them and gods, now he's made Kuroo an accomplice!

“I'll do ya one better, bro,” Kuroo says, and pulls his bag from under the bar to sling it over his shoulder, “see ya tomorrow!”

Kuroo exits, offering a nod to Akaashi.

_Shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I (sydmicky) have been comparing Kuroo to soup lately. Like, soup is customizable for whoever is eating it, and it's a comfort food that just makes you feel good no matter what. And Kuroo is adaptable and makes his partners and friends and loved ones comfortable and supports them.
> 
> So Kuroo is soup. he11ebore hates this because she doesn't like soup, but I still think it's a good analogy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he's standing alone with Bokuto in the bar, Akaashi is second guessing his decision. What could be so important that Bokuto wants to speak to him alone? Bokuto is puttering behind the bar and he looks nervous. Why doesn’t he just get to the point? It’s late, Akaashi is tired, and he wants to go home and go to sleep. He needs to recharge before his client tomorrow.

Akaashi had seriously thought about going home. He didn't have any actual obligation to speak with Bokuto. They aren’t friends. They’re hardly acquaintances. He had left with Tsukki, made it all the way to his car, put his violin and bag in the back seat.

And then stopped.

 _I want to know what he has to say_ , he’d thought, surprised at himself.

Now that he's standing alone with Bokuto in the bar, Akaashi is second guessing his decision. What could be so important that Bokuto wants to speak to him alone? Bokuto is puttering behind the bar and he looks nervous. Why doesn’t he just get to the point? It’s late, Akaashi is tired, and he wants to go home and go to sleep. He needs to recharge before his client tomorrow.

 _I intimidate him_ , Akaashi recalls with a sigh.

He sits on a bar stool and folds his hands in front of himself. Bokuto glances up and then back down and Akaashi is growing impatient.

“So, what did you want to say earlier?”

Bokuto jumps a little. He’d practiced what he was going to say the night before, but now, looking at the other man, who’s just so freaking pretty, he feels like he’s at a loss.

“I, uh…” he starts, but his mouth is dry. He holds up a finger and goes to get two clean glasses, filling them with water, and comes back, placing one in front of Akaashi and gulping at his own. Once his mouth doesn’t feel like sand, he sighs. “I just wanted to apologize for being really fuckin’ hard to handle,” he starts, glancing up at Akaashi, sheepish, “and, I, like I said earlier, you intimidate me, because, well, because you’re so calm, and like, really attractive, and I want to know you better but I’m pretty sure you fuckin’ hate me, man, and that just really sucks.” The words are rushed and Bokuto feels his stomach fall with each one.

Akaashi weighs his options. If he brushes off Bokuto’s concerns, he’ll likely take it as a dismissal instead of a lowering of stakes. If he denies disliking Bokuto, which will only be a half truth at this point, then he’ll have to explain his cold demeanor which is an even bigger pain. Akaashi likes this gig so far and doesn't want to leave or have a bad relationship with the bar staff, which means playing to his audience, in more ways than one.

“Bokuto-san,” he starts coolly, but can't help but fall into a slightly more charming demeanor when he sees Bokuto brighten at being addressed, “I appreciate that you don’t wish to overwhelm me, but I'd like you to be comfortable being yourself around me.” The bartender isn’t wrong. He is a lot for Akaashi to handle, but that isn’t Bokuto’s fault.

 _He can’t help his nature any more than we can_ , Kenma’s voice provides. Akaashi barely holds back his sigh.

Bokuto smile is dangerously close to being blinding. His entire form seems to fill out and his big gold eyes shine.

“Okay!” he chirps brightly, leaning forward a little.

Akaashi can’t help but smile. Then, just as he see’s the shock and adoration creep across Bokuto’s expression, he stands.   
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”   
  
And damn it, the smile was in his voice even though he had turned away.

 

* * *

 

The next few times Akaashi plays at The Crow’s Nest, he can tell that he’s drawn to Bokuto, but he’s not sure why. The other man’s attraction towards him isn’t terribly original.  Akaashi is aware that he’s attractive, and that his cold demeanor can sometimes draw people to him. Opposites attract and other such nonsense. There’s just something about Bokuto that sits with Akaashi. There’s something about him that’s completely different.

It’s not until a week later, when Akaashi has observed Bokuto greet no less than six people since opening the bar, each salutation unique and specific, yet still completely effortless, that Akaashi realizes what is so special about Bokuto.

“I don’t know how you manage it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says when he goes to get his wine on a break. He very pointedly ignores the way Bokuto’s shoulders move under his tailored shirt as he reaches to Akaashi’s preferred Malbec.

“Manage what? The bar?” he asks as he pours Akaashi’s wine. He does this little _twist_ with his forearm, the motion fluid and practiced and _devastating_. Akaashi can only imagine what that same movement could be used for-

“No,” Akaashi says slowly, distracted by the muscles moving under Bokuto’s skin. No man’s forearm should be so attractive. “The people. You don’t ever seem to get tired of them.”

“I dunno, they’re cool. I like the attention so it’s not really a problem.”

 _He’s so trusting and open,_ Akaashi muses. Normally he wouldn’t find an extrovert like Bokuto so endearing, but the bartender seems to be able to care about everyone all the time. It draws Akaashi in just as much as it puts him off.

“I wouldn’t be able to talk to so many people all the time and still have the energy to do anything,” Akaashi says before he can edit himself. He’s noticed, over the past week, that he’s started to just _tell_ Bokuto things without realizing. That knowledge leaves goosebumps on his arms, but he’s not sure that he doesn’t like the feeling.

“That explains why you’re so serious,” Bokuto speculates, “Oh! And that cute frown you’ve always got going on.” Akaashi feels his shoulders get stiff and his mouth pull into a - _not cute!_ \- frown.

“ _Cute_ frown?” Akaashi asks, voice low.

“That one!” Bokuto chirps, “That really cute, kissable frown!”

Akaashi feels his cheeks get warm and something flutter in his chest. He doesn’t get fluttery in his chest, _ever_.

“That’s...that’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard,” Akaashi says without any heat. He tries to keep his face neutral, stoic, something that Bokuto won’t call _kissable_ , but he can’t seem to control the corners of his own mouth. Bokuto calling him kissable makes that something flutter harder in his chest, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about why.

Bokuto’s eyes are downright sparkling. “Is that a _smile_ , ‘kaashi!?”

“I have to go play. Thank you for the wine, Bokuto-san.” He goes back to his table and settles in. Tsukki isn’t there tonight, but Akaashi wishes that he were. It’s easier to stay stoic around Tsukki than on his own.  
  


* * *

 

The next time Akaashi is at the bar, Bokuto isn't. Kuroo isn’t either, but that doesn’t bother Akaashi nearly as much as Bokuto’s absence. The girl behind the bar is fine, quieter than Bokuto and Kuroo, and at first Akaashi thinks he likes the quiet. The night is low key overall. The regulars have become used to Akaashi playing, and they don’t give him too much attention.

 _Maybe they took the night off for a date or something._ He thinks absently as he plays. They’ve never referred to each other as “boyfriend” or “partner” but it’s so obvious that they’re more than friends. The fact that he’s putting so much thought into the bartenders’ relationship doesn’t feel right. Akaashi can’t put his finger on _why_ , and that’s annoying him. There’s something else itching under his skin too, something that just feels off with the entire atmosphere.

“You gonna order something?” the woman asks, and, damn it, Akaashi’s forgotten her name. He’s been standing at the bar for a few minutes now, waiting for her to tend other customers, and it comes to him. He’s grown used to Bokuto’s slightly incessant background chatter. The bar is too quiet without it.

“Yeah, uh, a glass of Malbec please,” Akaashi says. Bokuto would have already filled his glass by now and would be asking him about his day, what playing the violin is like, do his fingers have calluses, do they hurt, etc. At first Akaashi hated the constant conversation, but now that it’s gone…

_Shit._

The wine isn’t that great. It’s _fine_ , it doesn’t taste any different, but without the warm smile and “Your Malbec, ‘Kaashi”, it feels a little flat.

By the time Akaashi is packing up to leave, Bokuto’s absence has gone from irksome to oppressive. He takes his money and leaves without any conversation. No comment on his playing, his music choice, no wishing him well until the next time he plays.

Somehow, the bartender has wormed his way past some of Akaashi’s carefully constructed walls.

He wonders how long Bokuto will last there.  
  


* * *

 

Akaashi is an introvert. He doesn’t usually care for much company, but tonight he’s lonely. It’s been a little too long since he’s felt someone’s skin against his own, had someone touch him in a sincere way. Usually his clients satisfy his needs well enough that this feeling isn’t a problem, but right now, sitting at the bar, Akaashi is lonely.

“Your frown isn’t as cute today,” Bokuto says, and when did he get there, in front of Akaashi? The violinist looks up from his wine and sighs at how concerned Bokuto looks. How does he manage to look so sincere all the time? “What can I do to fix it?”

“You don’t have to fix anything, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, forcing himself to sit straighter. Bokuto’s arms are more distracting than usual today; he’s wearing a henley with the sleeves pushed up and all Akaashi wants is for those arms to be around him. Akaashi wonders if there’s any give to Bokuto’s muscular body.

“I know I don’t _have_ to,” Bokuto says, leaning with his elbows on the bartop, “I want to. Anything, name it.”

Akaashi leans forward as well, letting his eyelids droop just slightly.

“Come home with me,” he says, and his voice is flirting with being rough. There’s just enough texture to make sure Bokuto picks up what he’s implying. Akaashi knows how to seduce someone, for him it’s methodical, a puzzle that’s usually pretty easy for him to solve.

Bokuto cocks his head to the side.

“To do what?”

Either Bokuto is being purposefully obtuse, or Akaashi thinks too highly of himself.

“Do you want to find out if I’m as kissable as I look?” Akaashi asks, leaning closer to Bokuto and looking up at him, arching his back _just so_.

“Yeah, yes! Please! Really?” Bokuto blurts all at once, “For real? Really? I can-” he lowers his voice to a whisper and leans closer to Akaashi, “-I can kiss you?”

Akaashi keeps his triumphant smirk to himself.

“Sure, you can kiss me,” he purrs. He’s laying it on thick, but he wants this, wants to kiss Bokuto and more, “Do a good enough job and I might even let you fuck me.”

Bokuto leans back at that, and while he doesn’t look dejected he does look a little concerned.

“I- that’s fast, Akaashi, I don’t think I can...I mean I _could_ , you’re pretty, but I’m not like that, I’m-” Akaashi feels his stomach sink and he leans back, giving Bokuto plenty of space.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san, apparently I read this wrong. Would Kuroo be upset?” he interrupts, covering his disappointment with forced nonchalance. Could it be that Kuroo and Bokuto are actually exclusive? But he was perfectly willing to kiss Akaashi just moments ago. So, then maybe they have an open relationship, but penetrative sex is a hard limit? Akaashi can respect that. Or, shit, the bar is closed to patrons, but Kuroo and Tsukki are at the other end of the bar chatting. Bokuto is probably uncomfortable with the setting.

“Wait, why would he care?” Bokuto asks. His brows are quirked into a confused frown and Akaashi wants to kiss those wrinkles away. He shoves the thought down, dismissing it because it has obviously been too long since he had physical, intimate, contact with someone.

“Aren’t you two dating? Or rather, together?” Akaashi asks, trying hard not sound disappointed. There’s no rational reason for him to be disappointed right now.

“No! Oh, man, I mean, well, we are, kinda? I guess you could say we’re friends with benefits, but like, we’re not together or anything,” Bokuto laughs, full and unabashed. Akaashi feels his chest relax, and shit, when did he start holding his breath? “We’re just close and we like to enjoy each other's bodies and make each other feel good, but Kuroo doesn't date and I don't feel that way about him - I mean, I wanna kiss him sometimes real bad, but you- I've been thinking about kissing you for, like, weeks! And doing nice stuff for you and whatever.”

“I see,” Akaashi says slowly.

“Oh, uh, is that weird?” Bokuto is concerned for a moment before continuing, “but- but anyway, I’m demisexual, so like - it means I only feel sexual attraction to people I'm emotionally bonded with. My bro can do anyone and it's awesome but that's just not who I am.”

“Okay…”

Despite Bokuto’s reassurance, Akaashi can’t help but feel conflicted. He’s relieved that he hasn’t offended Bokuto or crossed any lines, but…

 _Emotionally bonded_ concerns him. What constitutes an emotional bond? Akaashi doesn’t communicate well with words, especially emotionally, but he knows how to use his body to say what his words can’t. And where does sensual attraction end and sexual attraction begin with Bokuto? The last thing Akaashi wants to do is force himself on the other man. He started this conversation looking for a sure thing, but now…

Bokuto interrupts his spiral of thoughts.

“If you don't want me now that you know that, I understand…”  He looks at the floor, out and excited demeanor faded into something reserved and distant, which makes Akaashi's heart sink. He's seen Bokuto be self deprecating, but this isn't that. It's as if Bokuto is used to the rejection, that he's prepared himself for it.

“It's not that,” Akaashi says gently. He doesn't want to explain that his relationship with emotions is complicated; he prefers to keep that can of worms tightly shut. “I have a friend that is asexual, I'm just not as familiar with demisexuality.”

“I… just, that's all I've got,” Bokuto says, equal parts sheepish and sad.

“What if you came over anyway?”

“I already said I wanna kiss you…” Bokuto says,  low and gentle, “so yes please?”

Akaashi finds himself smiling.

“How long will it take for you to be done?” Akaashi asks. He's eager to feel Bokuto beneath him, over him, anything and everything.

“Kuroo owes me one, so d’you wanna leave now?”

“I’ll get my things,” Akaashi says as he slides off the bar stool. Before he turns away, he remembers himself and turns back to Bokuto. “If we could be…” He takes a moment to think of the way he wants to phrase his request, “discreet, I would appreciate that.”

“What does 'discreet' mean?”

“That I like to keep my personal life private,” Akaashi says, glancing over at Kuroo and Tsukki. The blond looks more irritated than usual, which is interesting. “Is that okay?” Akaashi asks, his tone guarded.

“Don't tell anybody. Got it,” Bokuto offers a thumbs up.

He walks down to the other side of the bar to say goodbye to Kuroo. Their high-five below the bar isn't subtle, and Akaashi fights an eye-roll.

“My car is just around the corner,” Akaashi says when Bokuto returns. Akaashi has his bag and violin, and all he needs is his keys, which are-

“Woah, lemme help with that!” Bokuto says and he catches Akaashi's bag before it can slide off his shoulder. Akaashi feels his cheeks get warm and he glances over to where Kuroo and Tsukki are looking at them.

“Thank you Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mutters, pulling his bag back onto his shoulder. For a moment he expects Bokuto to resist, insist on letting him help, but the other man offers him a smile as he lets go of the strap.

Akaashi offers Tsukki and Kuroo a nod and then leaves, flustered enough by the outburst to barely hold the door for Bokuto. The bartender doesn't seem too fazed as he thanks Kuroo. It gives Akaashi enough time to put some distance between them, as if they're not leaving _together_.

 _You're being absurd,_ part of him thinks.

 _You just like your privacy,_ another part of him replies.

Akaashi messes with his keys on the walk to his car. Is this a good idea? Should he have invited Bokuto over to his apartment? Did he leave anything out? Did he forget any dishes anywhere?

“So...is your place far?” Bokuto asks, breaking Akaashi out of him ramping anxiety. He looks over at the bartender, who doesn’t seem to be phased in the slightest that Akaashi basically ran out of the bar.

“Ah, not really. I prefer to drive rather than carry everything,” Akaashi says. He clicks the unlock button on his keys and opens his trunk. Bokuto stands on the curb, his hands shoved in his pockets, but Akaashi can see his fingers twitching beneath the fabric, as if he’s resisting helping. It’s a little unnerving how endearing that is.

Akaashi shuts the trunk and opens the driver’s side door.

“Hop in.”  
  


* * *

 

“Excuse the mess, please.”

Akaashi turns the key to his condo and walks in before Bokuto. Shit, his mug from breakfast is still on the counter.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s nothin’,” Bokuto dismisses, honest, then shoves his hands in his pockets, repeating _don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch._ He looks up to survey the room to see that it is completely spotless. Akaashi lives in a condo made entirely of silver and black rectangles. The coffee table, the minimalist futon couch, the smooth stainless steel kitchen counter with no appliances or clutter save for three silver jars at the far end.

“May I get you a drink?” Akaashi asks as he places his keys on the key hook next to the closet. Bokuto hears a familiar noise and looks over in time to see Akaashi finish popping his knuckles. He’s noticed Akaashi’s nervous tick and it keeps making him want to kiss those hands.

“Water, please!” Bokuto chirps, following Akaashi into the apartment and towards the open-air kitchen. It reminds him a little of Kuroo’s place, but bigger -- higher ceilings, unified decor, probably more rooms. Bokuto is overwhelmed with the need to explore the condo but fights it back. He’s not here to explore the _apartment_ after all.

Akaashi hums and goes to a cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice, then water from a pitcher on the kitchen island. Bokuto notices that he keeps glancing at a mug on the counter. Bokuto hadn’t noticed it before, but it must have been from Akaashi’s breakfast.

“You can sit, if you’d like,” Akaashi says, placing the water on the island.

“I’d rather kiss you!” Bokuto admits, enthusiastic and unabashed. He’s delighted to see Akaashi’s cheeks get a little pink as the other man leans on the counter. God, the way he was arching his back at the Crow’s Nest was...it was a _moment_ that Bokuto is not going to forget any time soon; and he’s doing it again, although this time Bokuto thinks Akaashi is doing it without realizing.

“Water or kissing, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, and his tone is a little exasperated, but there’s this little curl to his lips that Bokuto wants to see all the time.

“I wanna know what that cute smile feels like…” Bokuto leans far over the counter, “right here.” He taps his fingertips to his own mouth and bats his lashes at Akaashi, and _oh_ they’re close.  “What do you think?”

“I think you’re a little ridiculous,” Akaashi says, but there’s fondness in his voice. Akaashi steps closer to Bokuto and Bokuto stands up to meet him and, and, god, he has to tilt his head up so that he can kiss Bokuto.

And he does, and it’s... _cute._ And chaste, and sweet, and Bokuto is smiling into it and before he knows it Akaashi’s face is _on fire._

Bokuto doesn’t pull away, he let’s Akaashi create the space between them, and when Akaashi opens his eyes he sees Bokuto’s big gold ones gazing at him, his eyelids hooded but smiling bright and stupid.

“Wanna do it again?” Bokuto can’t help but feel eager. He’s been thinking about kissing Akaashi for weeks now, and it’s better than he expected.

“Would you be comfortable,” Akaashi glances towards the living space, the futon, and Bokuto can’t help but smile. “Where, would you be comfortable?”

“I think I’ll be comfortable no matter where we are,” Bokuto says, leaning back to give Akaashi space to think. He smirks at Akaashi and asks, “Where do you want me?”

Akaashi sighs and takes Bokuto's hand. The bartender is more than willing to follow Akaashi to the futon.

“Oho, I think I like where this is headed,” Bokuto says playfully.

“Bokuto-san, you’re asexual.”

“Demisexual! And it’s heading towards cuddles! I love cuddles! I’m an S-Class cuddler. Here!” Bokuto flops on the futon on his back and opens his arms. “C’mere.”

Akaashi seems to hesitate for a moment before settling on top of Bokuto. Bokuto wraps his arms around Akaashi with a happy sound. He makes sure to keep his grip loose enough so that Akaashi hopefully won’t feel claustrophobic.

The worst part about cuddling with someone new is the awkward beginning. They're not familiar with each other, but even still Akaashi seems stiff.

Bokuto, however, relaxes down to his bones with a deep exhale and _nuzzles_ Akaashi’s hair.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, it is,” Akaashi says. He doesn’t really _sound_ convinced, but he does relax into Bokuto a little, humming softly as Bokuto’s breath causes Akaashi’s hair to tickle his neck.

“Okay.” Bokuto hums soft and squeezes a little tighter, then settles into a loose embrace with Akaashi. The violinist shifts slightly before resting his head against Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto can feel his breath on his neck and it’s soft and nice and good. After a few minutes of silence and breathing, Akaashi feels Bokuto tense beneath him.

“What is it?” Akaashi asks, lifting his head to look at him, eyebrow lifted. It’s a really cute expression.

“I didn’t say anything?” Bokut defends. When Akaashi doesn’t press, instead lifting his other eyebrow to match the first, Bokuto continues, “I - I really wanna kiss you!”

“Oh,” Akaashi breathes, that same, small, barely there, smile touching his lips, “why don’t you then?”

Bokuto, with a very self-satisfied half-giggle, kisses the top of Akaashi’s head. Akaashi’s cheeks turn a little pink and he pouts before he can stop himself.

He might have been thinking about kissing Bokuto a lot recently.

“Seriously?” he asks, and there’s fondness there that makes Bokuto’s heart beat faster.

“Seriously!” Bokuto pecks another kiss to Akaashi’s hair. “Mm, your hair is soft and smells nice. Is that weird? That your hair smells nice? Like lavender or rose or something.”

“Lavender and rose smell nothing alike. And it’s jasmine,” Akaashi mumbles. He’s looking down at Bokuto’s lips, like he’s distracted by them.

“Yeah, well, it’s real nice.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes and shifts forward to meet Bokuto’s lips. The kiss is sweet and light, held back, gentle. Akaashi lingers for a moment before pulling away, and Bokuto takes an extra moment before opening his big gold eyes, warm and melting, to make eye contact with Akaashi.

“ _Yes.”_

Something in Akaashi changes then. Bokuto almost swears that he feels a slight shiver, and that sets a warmth in his chest. He searches Akaashi’s face for a moment before Akaashi is kissing him again, this time a little less sweet, but still gentle, curious. Akaashi’s lips are soft. They taste good, like the violinist uses a flavored balm. When they finally break apart Akaashi sighs a little.

It doesn’t sound anything like his usual sighs.

“I like that one,” Bokuto whispers.

“Like what?”

“That sigh. I wanna hear it again like I wanna see your cute little smile.”

“That’s such an odd thing to say,” Akaashi breathes. For a second, Bokuto thinks he’s fucked up, but Akaashi kisses him again. He pulls back and there’s that ghost of a smile again. It’s small, just for Bokuto.

“You always surprise me with how you think, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto just hums, then kisses the corner of Akaashi’s mouth before hoisting him closer so he can kiss along Akaashi’s jaw and neck. Akaashi’s breath catches a little and he leans harder against Bokuto. Bokuto sighs when he feels Akaashi's fingers start to pet over his hair.

“I thought it would be crispier,” Akaashi mumbles.

“It used to be, before I knew how to do it right,” Bokuto purrs on Akaashi’s skin, “Kuroo showed me how to use something called pomade instead of gel.”

“I see,” Akaashi says, “how long does it take you? To style it I mean?”

“Not long, it behaves better than Kuroo’s. Blow dryer for a sec and it just sticks! Sometimes I'll leave it down so it's easier to play with. Maybe if there's a next time I could do that? If you like this with me, that is. You could not, that's okay.”

Bokuto can feel Akaashi’s heart thump against his chest and how it seems to get quicker for just a moment.

“I do. Like this with you,” Akaashi says quietly, “So far, so good.” He shifts down so that he can capture Bokuto in a kiss, one that’s long and deep and good. It’s the kind that sends shivers down Bokuto’s spine.

It’s also the kind that makes him hard, but he feels too good kissing Akaashi to notice.

Akaashi _definitely_ notices. He pulls back and looks at Bokuto with slightly furrowed brows. He glances down where his thigh rests against Bokuto’s (thick, holy _fuck_ ) erection.

“Are… I thought you were...”

“No, it’s - um, let me up, it’s -” Bokuto sits up and guides Akaashi to sit close next to him. “My body responds, because that feels real nice, really really nice Akaashi, you feel so nice, but there’s no…”

“Attraction.”

“Well, there’s plenty of attraction, just not to do that. The boner’s there, but I don’t want to use it I guess.”

“I see,” Akaashi nods. He twists his fingers in his lap, the pops from his knuckles almost inaudible in the room. “Well, what would you like to do?” He turns to look at Bokuto expectantly.

“D’you do that when you're nervous?” Bokuto asks, “or when you're hiding something? Because, like, I'm a handful and that's okay, so if you want to talk, then, you know, you don't have to hide?”

Akaashi jerks back a little before looking at his own hands.

“It’s...a nervous, a bad, habit,” he defends, “but it doesn’t have anything to do with hiding.”

Sadness sweeps over Bokuto’s eyes for a half second, but fades as he takes Akaashi’s hands in his own and kisses his fingers. He wants to say something, wants to tell Akaashi he doesn't have to hide, but doesn't. He closes his eyes and savors the feeling of the other man while he can.

Akaashi looks away, brows furrowed in a frown.

“You never said,” he mumbles, “what you would like to do now.”

“Does it have to go somewhere?” Bokuto mumbles against Akaashi’s slender fingers, “Can’t we keep doin’ this?” He pauses and looks up to Akaashi’s eyes. “Unless you wanna do something else? Or?” Akaashi looks down at where Bokuto is holding his hands. His cheeks are pink as he shrugs.

“No, we can keep doing this,” the violinist breathes, not knowing what to do with the quiet attention.

So Bokuto does - Akaashi leans on Bokuto’s chest until they’re laying down again. Bokuto lets Akaashi have one of his hands back, but keeps the other, turning his head to the side so that he can comfortably kiss those slim, callused fingers. He kisses each knuckle, then kisses the inside of Akaashi’s wrist. He could feel Akaashi watching him, but now his face is tucked in Bokuto’s shoulder. Was that too intimate? Is he uncomfortable? Bokuto pauses, ready to ask if the violinist is okay when--

“Please. Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Bokuto doesn’t even try to control his smile at that. He continues giving Akaashi’s hand gentle attention until the brunette shifts back and pulls Bokuto into a proper kiss. They stay soft and tender, and when they stop kissing their hands explore each other. It’s not sexual, it’s not even romantic, but, Akaashi feels like he’s floating, lost in the sensations the other man is giving him.

Akaashi can find an excellent fuck just about anywhere, but this is something different and delicate, that he usually doesn't admit to enjoying. It eases the touch-hunger that he’s been feeling, and the satisfied contentment settles in his chest, filling a gap he didn’t know he had.

Bokuto’s hands rest at the small of Akaashi’s back, and Akaashi’s hands play with the hair at Bokuto’s nape.

It’s… _nice._ Despite how intimidating Akaashi is at the bar, here, in Bokuto’s arms, he’s pliant and relaxed. He feels so good under Bokuto’s hands, warm and firm and _lovely._

Bokuto isn’t exactly sure how long they stay like that, how late, or rather early, it actually is, and he can’t really find it in himself to care. When he feels Akaashi’s fingers still and breathing even, Bokuto peeks down to see Akaashi’s beautiful eyes closed and his icy features soft and relaxed. He can't help but smile at how sweet Akaashi looks having dozed off on his chest. Bokuto leans his head back and smiles up at the ceiling, letting his own breathing even out with Akaashi’s. He’s not tired, but, he feels still and calm.

It lasts a few beautiful moments until Akaashi jolts up suddenly, eyes wide completely alert. He sits up, pushing himself off of Bokuto’s chest, heaving a deep breath, another, before looking over at Bokuto.

“Hey, hey,” Bokuto soothes, sitting up with him and caressing his cheek, “it's okay, we just napped for a little, it's alright.”

“I - I fell asleep,” Akaashi says, frozen in place, shocked. He doesn’t fall asleep with strangers, ever, but he’d been feeling good, and next thing he knew… “I’m sorry, I don’t... usually do that.”

Bokuto sits up, placing  his hands on Akaashi’s cheeks and kisses his nose.

“You’re real cute, you know that?” The corners of Akaashi's mouth pull down and he shakes his head.

“Why do you keep saying that?” He asks slowly.

Bokuto cocks his head to the side. “Because it's true? Do you not like me sayin’ that? I mean I could stop, it'd be hard, but I could-”

“No, no…” Akaashi interrupts. He presses a soft kiss to Bokuto’s lips, “I'm… just tired, I think.”

“Wanna call it a night?” Bokuto asks, his fingers messing with the short hair behind Akaashi's ears. He doesn't necessarily want to leave, but, he doesn't want to pressure Akaashi. He definitely wants to do this again.

 _No,_ Akaashi thinks, and god that scares him.

“I think that would be for the best,” the violinist says. He gets up slowly, taking a moment to stretch. His futon is comfortable, but he’s going to enjoy sleeping in his own bed.

Bokuto nearly leaps out of the futon, as if all the energy he’s suppressed the last hour or two is surging back into him, reaches up, arms high over his head and leans back.

Akaashi hears several pops and looks over to see Bokuto’s shirt riding up in his backward bend, exposing thick, defined hips and a light, black happy trail. He feels his mouth water and a burn spread through his chest, a consuming need to know what’s at the end of that tantalizing line of well-groomed body hair. If what he felt earlier was any indication…

“Mmmm!” Bokuto moans and comes out of his stretch, “Well this was absolutely great! Can I hug you?”

Akaashi diverts his gaze quickly. “You don’t have to ask…”

“It never hurts to check, ‘kaashi!” Bokuto chirps as he stands and pulls the shorter man into a tight hug. When Akaashi’s doesn’t immediately relax into the hug, Bokuto starts to pull back, but before he can, he feels Akaashi’s arms snake around his waist. Akaashi rests his forehead on Bokuto’s shoulder and the bartender smiles, pressing his nose into Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi shivers a little at the feeling, hums softly, and lets go.

“Do you want a ride home?”

“Nah, I don’t live far. I don’t mind carrying my stuff.” Bokuto shrugs. “See you soon. And hey... thanks.”

“Right, uh, thank you,” Akaashi says. He follows Bokuto back through the kitchen and waits for him to put on his shoes.

“We should do this again sometime!” Bokuto says as he grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. Akaashi twists his fingers, and this time none of his knuckles crack. Bokuto looks from Akaashi’s eyes to his hands and smiles, but the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yes,” is all Akaashi can think to say. He feels...overwhelmed, flustered; he’s not sure why Bokuto is having this kind of effect on him. People don’t usually leave him wanting more, not like this.

“Mmm, so, bye!” Bokuto turns on his heel and walks away. Akaashi leans in the open door and watches him go. He blushes and retreats, however, when Bokuto turns and catches him looking.   
  
_Oh no_.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i know we said porn begins in ch3, but let me tell you that the porn is already written and it's mapping out the story that's the hard part, sorry, also not sorry bc idk about you but imo tension is just a whole bunch of fuck yeah
> 
> also he11ebore is doing [inktober](http://he11ebore.tumblr.com/tagged/inktober2016) some of which are illustrations (is it illustration or fanart when its a draw of your own fic/au? idk) of characters and scenes from this au including some that we havent seen yet (cough piercer noya cough) [so if youre into that take a peek i guess](http://he11ebore.tumblr.com/tagged/inktober2016)
> 
> sydmickey is an Actual Real Life Illustrator and is considering also doing a scene or two so stay tuned for that info as well once she gets it set up ;)
> 
> your comments give us life, for real, thanks for sticking around.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you thank you thank you. 
> 
> please subscribe to this work to stay updated.
> 
> It starts slower, but, um, well, if you've read Closet Case, then, um, you know how it's gonna end up. So. *sweats* I think porn begins in Ch3? You'll see, you'll see~


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